


Let Go

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Awkward Blow Jobs, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Two Dicks (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Hemipenes, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mating Plug, Nipple Play, Pillow Principality, Praise Kink, Service Top, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Aziraphale notices that Crowley seems to be holding back whenever they sleep together, and he'd much rather see what Crowley could do if he just let it all go. He nearly begs Crowley to let go, and he's not at all disappointed by the rather sticky result





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another porn fic an this time it's got a mating plug. God bless america i don't remember who asked me to do this but I blame them. I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

Crowley finished and flopped down to the side of the bed. Like he always did. Like _they_ always did, and Aziraphale squirmed a bit before relaxing down into the pillows. He always liked to _bask_ in the afterglow, to say. Of knowing that Crowley’s spend was inside of him and would stay there until either one of them felt like getting up and doing the cleaning bit. The relatively less sexy part of their coupling, really, but Aziraphale enjoyed that too. To miracle the mess away felt cheap and impersonal, Aziraphale always thought. Crowley, always happy to help, obliged him his strange little want and always took quite the care in the cleanup. After, of course, he’d laid down for a moment. And a longer moment. And Aziraphale wriggled a bit again and sighed.

“Crowley, dear,” he said, reaching out for him. He brushed over Crowley’s bare shoulder and watched his eyes open again. “You can’t sleep just yet.”

“I know, I know. Give me a minute to relax,” Crowley said, closing his eyes again.

“You’ve been relaxing nearly ten minutes, dear.”

“I think I deserve it. I do all the work,” Crowley grumbled, but he pushed himself up and off the bed.

“Well, I was thinking, anyway,” Aziraphale said, which stopped Crowley before he disappeared into the master bath. “Could we go again, perhaps? I’m really quite feeling it, you know, and I think—”

“Again, angel?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but I think _you_ need to take a break.”

Aziraphale frowned, at that. “I need to rest, do I?”

“Yes,” Crowley hissed, though it wasn’t from anger. Just annoyance, really. “I know you think we can go all day because we’re not human, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest. Recover a bit.”

“Rather, I think you’re the one who needs a rest, Crowley. Can we at least take a bath, then?”

Crowley looked at him for a long moment, hand over his face, before he gave up and nodded. He could at least do that to calm the air. There was the ever-slightest chance that his comment was out of line; Aziraphale knew his body best, and Crowley should respect that. That wasn’t to say, though, that there wasn’t a part of Crowley who was overly worried about it, too. Ever since they’d started doing _this_, after the apocalypse, Aziraphale had proved insatiable. It didn’t help that his favorite act was lying there and taking it, which was nice. It was great, even, for the first couple of rounds. Crowley thought it was hot, the idea of Aziraphale just existing to please him. But, third or fourth round, Crowley got tired. Aziraphale did not. Or, didn’t think he did. Crowley just didn’t want to hurt him.

A bath was well enough, anyway. It was easy, and Aziraphale may get what he wanted out of it. As long as they both left the water clean enough for bed, it didn’t really matter. That, and it would certainly clear the tension up before it had a moment too long to grow and fester. They’d certainly gotten over tiptoeing around each other in their relationship, but that didn’t mean they were particularly good at talking about the important things. Aziraphale often choked up on nerves and embarrassment, while Crowley just wasn’t sure how to form words together, at the best of times. Feelings and love were strangers to him, for his demon nature. He was learning, and that learning curve was steep as any ocean trench.

The water was warm, though, and Crowley’s bathtub was indulgently large. A nice sleek, black marble. It held the heat wonderfully, and Crowley had to resist settling in immediately. He had to go back and get Aziraphale, who was no doubt still lying on the mass of pillows humming happily to himself. Humming wasn’t a part of it, but Aziraphale was just lying there. His legs were invitingly spread, and the space between was glistening and _wet._ His cock was already half-hard again, straining between his thighs, and Crowley couldn’t help the shiver that ran straight down his spine. Maybe, just maybe, he’d had a part in fueling Aziraphale’s insatiability. When he spread himself out like this, Aziraphale was nothing more than a prime bit of meat, and he knew it. He did it on purpose. He wanted Crowley to give him what he wanted, and he knew if he played it just right, Crowley would have no choice but to say yes.

Except, Crowley just idly ran his hand from Aziraphale’s hip to his chest, where he lingered a little longer to squeeze his tit before leaning down to press a kiss into his forehead. Aziraphale whined, as he did, and again when Crowley took his hand away altogether. He patted Aziraphale’s shoulder and sat down on the little space between him and the edge of the bed.

“Bath’s ready, angel,” Crowley said.

“Please, Crowley, don’t—”

“Bath time, I said. Let’s go,” he said as he winked and stood up. Aziraphale had no choice but to follow him, or he’d be stuck lying in bed for the rest of the night. Crowley clearly had no intentions of carrying him, as he’d done before. Probably for the best, because that sort of _display_ always made Aziraphale a little weak in the knees.

They were clearly very different in size. There was no reason that Crowley should be able to pick him up. Crowley was nothing short of scrawny, though he was particularly tall. He was skin and bones. And Aziraphale, in entire contrast, was shorter and rather plump for it. Still, Crowley could lift him in a bridal hold without a single bit of effort and just. Carry him off. Deposit him wherever he so desired, and Aziraphale made a note to test out that strength soon enough. If Crowley could hold him while they _fucked_, well. He just might discorporate.

When he stood up, then, to follow Crowley, he had to stop for a moment just after the first step. This was Crowley’s favorite part, really, and it’s why he’d lingered so long to watch. There was just something so _wonderful _about watching his own fluids drip down Aziraphale’s thighs when he stood, because he couldn’t hold it all in if he tried. He had half a mind to drop to his knees behind Aziraphale and just lick the drop all the way back up to his hole, where he could lick and suck all he wanted. Aziraphale wouldn’t stop him. Aziraphale would bend right over the bed and let himself be fucked the rest of the night on one, wiry snake tongue.

But Aziraphale needed the rest. Crowley led him by the hand into the master bath, then stepped into the tub to settle himself down, first. Aziraphale followed a second later and made a pointed decision to plant himself squarely in Crowley’s lap, their chests pressed together. With such a forward presentation, Crowley couldn’t just say _no_. That would be unthinkable. So, instead, he let his hands work on their own and dig into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s hips while they kissed. And kissed. And Aziraphale rutted his hips and his half-hard cock into Crowley’s stomach. Then his tongue was over Crowley’s lips, in his mouth to try and coax him along into this little dance, but Crowley had none of it. He just massaged into Aziraphale’s lower back and dipped only an inch farther to grab at the meat of his arse. Nothing more.

“_Crowley,__”_ Aziraphale whined into his mouth. “Lower, dear, lower—you have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything, angel,” Crowley said.

There was a moment when Aziraphale pulled back and truly thought he was pushing. Crowley was grinning at him, though, and gave him a gentle swat. Aziraphale squeaked, but he leaned forward onto Crowley’s shoulders as Crowley dipped his fingers between his cheeks. It was purely clinical, really. Cleaning him up. There was no reason for Aziraphale to gasp and squirm at the first press to his opening, but he did. He did, and he buried his face into Crowley’s neck to kiss and suck at the skin. He would leave his own bruises to match the ones sprouting up in purest form around his nipples and clavicle.

At the second finger, Aziraphale was rolling his hips backwards. Trying to get Crowley to mean something with it, other than just stretching him open and _cleaning._ Cleaning was so boring. Aziraphale could take another load if he wanted, and he did so _want_. Crowley was anything but cooperative, and until he said otherwise, Aziraphale was going to keep trying to get what he wanted. He rocked his hips, he nipped into Crowley’s flesh, and he moaned ever so prettily into his ear but. Nothing. Crowley just worked him on his fingers, idly and slowly, with a disinterested hum on his lips.

“Crowley—” Aziraphale cupped his jaw. “Crowley, please.”

“Please what?”

“I’d _like_ to have another go at your cock, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re quite forward when you’re mad,” Crowley chuckled his amusement.

Aziraphale’s face turned a bright pink after that, with an offended gasp of, “Well—that is to say! Crowley!”

Crowley laughed, then, wrinkles under his eyes and all. A nice, bright, and genuine laugh. With his free hand, he gave Aziraphale another swat and suddenly jerked his fingers. A full body shudder took Aziraphale immediately, and it was over just as fast. Crowley went back to idly massaging his skin and cleaning him. But his fingers were just enough to keep Aziraphale interested, and that was the worst part. He was helpless to do anything other than rock into Crowley’s stomach and rub into him. Not that Crowley seemed to mind. It just wasn’t enough. Aziraphale wanted _more._

“Crowley, please, I just. Once more, once more, and I’ll be finished. I promise.”

“Is that a promise, angel?” Crowley muttered into his skin.

“Yes, yes, a promise. I just—once more. Let me finish once more.”

“As you wish,” Crowley said. All at once, he was fucking Aziraphale on three fingers with a tight grip on his cock.

Aziraphale let out a heady whine and couldn’t quite figure which way to work his hips to find _more._ Crowley did the work for him, as usual, and pressed his fingers up as deep as he could manage at the angle. His fingers worked a marvel around the base of his prick, dragging up and thumbing over his slit. It was so much, too much all at once. Aziraphale hadn’t realized how sensitive he was until Crowley was dipping down to fondle his balls. He gasped again, fingernails digging down into Crowley’s skin as he just. Took it. Whatever he could get, he moaned and whined for it, and shook his hips so prettily to egg Crowley on. Crowley obliged, as he always did, with a hard press into Aziraphale’s prostate, which he’d been sorely ignoring up until that point. A second later, Aziraphale was coming again, a loose spurt into the water between them.

“Marvelous, angel,” Crowley muttered. He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek and then resumed his early musings. Cleaning. Clinical and boring, but Aziraphale had quite rather had enough, at that point. He was tired.

When he slumped forward into Crowley’s chest, Crowley ran his damp hand through his hair and kissed him again. So much kissing, so much care. Aziraphale found himself a little frustrated of it and annoyed more at himself for feeling that way. Crowley had never done anything but think of him and mind his every worry. Surely, that should be enough, but Aziraphale had been thinking. Never a good thing, Crowley always said, thinking. But he’d let himself drag on about it for too long, and his first experiment had been quite a failure. If not just because he hadn’t been able to convince Crowley to fuck him again, but because Crowley had been right. He did need a rest.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale started.

“No,” Crowley replied without waiting, and Aziraphale frowned.

“Not that, heavens. Listen to me.”

Crowley hummed.

“I’ve just been thinking, I suppose. I’ve noticed something, and I was rather hoping we could talk about it. Do you mind?”

“Course not,” Crowley said as he withdrew his fingers. Aziraphale shuddered and held tight, but it was done all at once. “Should we move to bed, first? I’ll need to change the sheets, but you can dry off while I do that.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed rather wistfully. It wasn’t that he disliked Crowley’s care, quite the opposite. He’d swoon for it if that was quite appropriate, and it was decidedly not. Still, it was a marvel. It was the dream, really, to have someone care for him the way that Crowley did.

Crowley helped him out of the bath then disappeared out into the bedroom to start cleaning, wearing nothing but his briefs—heavens if Aziraphale didn’t appreciate that, either. In the meantime, he dried himself. He brushed his hair. And he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. Stars had been one thing, but Crowley had rather taken to crafting entire galaxies on his body. In these private moments where knew Crowley couldn’t see, he liked to admire them. It wasn’t as though he was particularly aching to dress, so this would be fine enough. Then, for a moment of staring, he picked his bathrobe off the back of the door and slipped it over his shoulders before moving out to the bedroom.

A miracle had obviously been used, because Crowley was _not_ fluffing pillows and straightening sheets. He was lounging on the bed with a hand behind his head and eyes half closed. Really, Aziraphale felt quite bad for it now. He really did work Crowley hard, and it wasn’t fair. That would be an issue to resolve on fixing. In the morning. For now, Crowley had agreed to listen to his silly little whims, so he should really do that before Crowley nodded right off to sleep. Of all the things Crowley had done, he had never once fallen asleep while they discussed something important. That hardly made it appropriate to drag it out.

After dropping the robe at the side of the bed, Aziraphale climbed into the bed and under the covers. It was like a practiced dance, the way Crowley’s arm came out to wrap around him while he wriggled closer, to lay his head on Crowley’s chest. Then, a breath. Just one, just for a moment, while Aziraphale gathered what courage he had to just come out and say things. Crowley would listen. Crowley would oblige him, as he always did.

“Well, Crowley. It’s come to my attention that you rather have a problem with holding back,” Aziraphale said, his hands wrung up in the quilt.

“I what now?” Crowley shifted to look at him, an eyebrow raised and yellow eyes wide.

“Holding back, I said. You’re always so _careful_ with me, and frankly, I’m a bit frustrated about it.”

“Frustrated,” Crowley repeated. “Frustrated how, exactly?”

“_Sexually_, my dear. Now, I won’t be upset if you’re stopping for your own good, but it always seems that you, well. Hold back.”

“So, you’ve said.”

“And I’d like you to stop that, I suppose. Stop holding back. I’m certainly made of stronger stuff than humans. I won’t break if you take me—”

“It’s not about that, angel,” Crowley groaned and rolled, so they were both on their sides and Crowley could really look at him. It felt a bit vulnerable and intimate, being pressed like that. “I don’t want to hurt you. Surely, you know that,” he dragged his knuckles along Aziraphale’s cheek like it would really drive home his message, the gentleness of it.

“I do know that, and I’m trying to tell you that you won’t hurt me.”

“And what if I do something worse? What if you—what if you don’t _like_ it, Aziraphale? I’m—well, I’m a _demon_. I’m a snake, I’m—”

“You’re Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale smiled and leaned closer, rather fond of it all with his cheek to Crowley’s chest. “I scarcely think there’s anything you could do that I wouldn’t enjoy. Truly.”

Crowley grumbled something that wasn’t quite words, then leaned his chin onto Aziraphale’s head so he wouldn’t have to look at him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“And why ever not?”

“Because when we find something, I do that you don’t like, I think I’d be devastated.”

Aziraphale smiled into Crowley’s skin, placing a kiss just above his collarbone and snuggling in closer. Closer until their legs were thrown together, and Crowley had draped an arm over his waist. Really, truly, Aziraphale appreciated every second of care Crowley spared for him. It was endearing and kind and sweet, all at once. Everything Aziraphale could have dreamed of, and it was hard to help himself for kissing along Crowley’s neck, then, too. He listened to Crowley hum pleasantly above him, then pulled back.

“We just need to talk, that’s all. If there’s something I don’t like, I’ll tell you. If there’s something you don’t like—”

“There’s nothing about you that I don’t like.”

“—then you’ll tell me,” Aziraphale finished pointedly. “Point being, dear, is I want this. I _want_ you to just positively lose control over me. I want you to see me and be so taken that you can’t keep yourself in check.”

Crowley gulped in such a way that Aziraphale could feel it against his forehead and smiled. That was an idea that Crowley clearly seemed to enjoy, so Aziraphale knew he’d won this round. Crowley would give him what he wanted, because he always did. It may not be tomorrow, and it may not be the following day, but Crowley would do it.

It was, in fact, a particularly warm day the following week when Crowley came up behind Aziraphale and wrapped his arms about his middle. Aziraphale had been going through some of the books at the flat, and for the work of it all, had nothing but his trousers and button up shirt on, the sleeves quite rolled to his elbows. It was, by far, the least dressed he’d ever been without being positively naked. Something about being barefoot with his forearms showing always had Crowley a little too close, breathing a little too hard on the skin of his neck. Maybe without their conversation a week prior, Aziraphale would have told him to stop until he’d finished. This time, he hummed quite contentedly and leaned back into Crowley’s embrace. Crowley plucked at the buttons of his shirt, but nothing more.

“Having fun, angel?” he asked, inappropriately close to Aziraphale’s ear.

“I could be having more fun, I suspect.” There was a certain something something prodding at his backside, but he made no movements and pretended not to notice. Not to care. It was the _act_, and he’d act it out until Crowley took things into his own hands.

“Books not doing it for you, hm?” Crowley even deigned to sound sympathetic. “Whatever are we to do, then?”

“Oh, I haven’t the faintest, Crowley. Perhaps you could entertain yourself while I—” Aziraphale broke off in a gasp when Crowley had suddenly taken a tight hold of his chest, one fat tit in each hand. He squeezed and molded and nosed along Aziraphale’s neck.

“I’m quite entertained, thank you for offering,” came the muffled hiss before Crowley licked a long strip up to his ear. Aziraphale put the books back as quick as he could, and then was turned quickly in Crowley’s arms and backed against the shelf.

“Crowley—” Aziraphale wouldn’t have even dared keep him away. And his voice sounded _broken_ for what little had happened, already.

Crowley kissed him then, a fierce knock of his head against the shelf, but they _kissed._ Crowley wasted no time getting his hands back on Aziraphale’s chest, pulling the buttons of his shirt open and touching his hands to _skin_. While Aziraphale tried, hard as he could, to get the shirt off of his shoulders, Crowley assaulted his mouth with tongue and teeth and heavy breath between them, his fingers working deftly over his chest, over his nipples to rub and squeeze at. Aziraphale shuddered into the touch, barely coherent to remember to kiss back. He managed, though, and rolled his hips forward into Crowley’s where he _gasped._ He hadn’t made an effort yet, and often chose not to. It was less to worry about, having something down between his thighs, but _Crowley_ had made an effort. Oh, and he’d made quite the impressive one, too.

“Crowley—Crowley, is that—are you?” Aziraphale couldn’t string together a sentence, not with Crowley’s teeth at the juncture of his jaw and neck, not with his tongue and dripping saliva. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it venom with the way his entire body had begun to ache.

“Oh, yes, angel,” Crowley replied. “I am.”

“Oh, Heavens,” Aziraphale rolled his head back into the shelf. Crowley had delivered, just as he promised. He was _letting_ go, and Aziraphale could already see scales popping up along his jaw. When Crowley pulled back to meet his gaze, his eyes were a solid golden stare with blown pupils.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed. He brought up his hands to feel along where his skin met scales, to marvel at the difference and the beauty of it.

Not to be outdone, Crowley tweaked at his nipples and leaned down to suck a pretty color on his neck, instead. Crowley had made stars and nebulae and galaxies, but nothing compared to the way Aziraphale’s skin lit up underneath his teeth and his tongue. Aziraphale bruised so easily, and maybe it was on purpose, but Crowley didn’t _care_. It lit a fire in his gut when he pulled back to see Aziraphale red from cheeks to chest, his neck a starlight of little purples and reds. His shirt, then, was hanging off his shoulders and missing a button. Truly, Crowley was about to undo himself.

“Should just take you here, shouldn’t I?” Crowley liked his lips. “Throw you to the floor and just ravish you.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale’s breath was caught in his throat, but he didn’t need to say anything for Crowley to understand.

“But you bruise so easily, don’t you?” Crowley continued. He took Aziraphale’s chin in his hands and turned his head to lean in and suck a nice one right beneath his ear. Aziraphale moaned something breathy, then, and shifted. “Besides,” Crowley pulled back with a particularly dangerous hiss, “it might be more fun to take you back to the _nest, _wouldn’t it?”

A shiver overtook Aziraphale’s body as he nodded, quickly.

“My own little prey, caught,” Crowley leaned in for another heavy kiss; Aziraphale melted into him, gripping at his shirt.

They started to move, then, in an uncoordinated and messy dance as Crowley fought with Aziraphale’s clothes. The shirt was easy enough, but he couldn’t quite get his fingers working at the belt until they were finally in the bedroom, just before Aziraphale’s knees hit the bed. They stopped there while Crowley yanked at his belt and removed his trousers in one fell swoop. Then, his underclothes. Aziraphale was pushed back onto the bed a second later, and his skin made such an enticing roll when he landed that Crowley could only hover and watch. Aziraphale was naked and laid out on his bed, _their_ bed, the _nest—_as Crowley was playing it. It was all just so good looking.

Crowley shed himself of his jacket and opened his shirt, but nothing more before climbing onto the bed and manhandling Aziraphale exactly where he wanted him. In the middle, nestled in the pillows, and all spread out like a _feast._ And Crowley would come out of this exceedingly well fed, if he had anything to say about it. If Aziraphale needed him to stop, they’d always had that in place. This was just about letting loose, going wild. Positively ravishing Aziraphale until he wasn’t himself anymore, until he was nothing but Crowley’s plaything. That’s what he wanted, so that’s what Crowley would give him.

They were kissing, then, and Aziraphale arched up to press his body into Crowley’s. There was friction there, the way Crowley’s shirt dipped between them and rubbed his chest, and when a button caught on his nipple he gasped into their kiss. Crowley didn’t relent. He got closer, his knee pressed up against Aziraphale’s sexless mound and grinding into it. Aziraphale’s hips bucked to meet him. And Crowley felt like he was _everywhere_, all at once, his hands roaming over Aziraphale’s chest and down to his sides. He grabbed at extra skin, at Aziraphale’s rolls and groaned into their kiss as he worked farther down, to his hips. Where he finally pulled back from their kiss and started down Aziraphale’s chest in feather touches and tongue.

When he came to Aziraphale’s stomach, he cupped it in his hands and massaged slowly while he kissed over the roll of it, to the underside where he kissed down and over Aziraphale’s mound. He mulled over it for a moment, kissing and rubbing his thumb down where a slit might open if he felt so inclined, but. He had other ideas, this time. After what could only be described as an overly sweet kiss over the skin, Crowley pulled back and smoothed his hands up to Aziraphale’s chest. He molded his hands over Aziraphale’s breasts again and grinned at him, dark, with his tongue slipping out between his lips.

“Aziraphale,” he said.

“C-Crowley,” Aziraphale replied, biting into the back of his knuckles.

“Let me see your cock, love. You can do that for me, yes?”

Aziraphale nodded and did as he was asked. Complete with a puckered little hole nestled back between his cheeks, and Crowley was nearly salivating as he looked over it. He didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to breath before he’d swallowed his prick down to the hilt and _sucked._ Crowley’s hands were on his hips, leaving bruises on his skin. Aziraphale couldn’t hardly control himself, the hot feeling of Crowley’s mouth around him; if Crowley wasn’t holding him down, he might have—he wouldn’t have, because Crowley wouldn’t _choke_ on anything he didn’t want to. The idea of it was enough to have Aziraphale groaning and rolling his head back. He would have reached down for Crowley’s hair, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t; all he could do was grab into the sheets to ground himself and rock his hips into Crowley’s welcoming, _warm_, mouth.

When Crowley pulled back, it was to tongue over Aziraphale’s prick instead with his forked, thin little thing. Along the vein on the underside, right underneath the head, then over Aziraphale’s slit. He licked fully over the cock once or twice before gripping it with his fist and pumping, spreading the spit along and watching Aziraphale turn into a sputtering mess. Then, with a grin and a promise on his teeth, Crowley played over his slit again in tiny, playful little licks. Aziraphale was watching him, face entirely red, but didn’t object. He only seemed to shiver and twitch with anticipation. But Crowley moved forward on his own, and his tongue was small enough to make it work. Slipping down past the tiny little hole, inside.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted, and he jolted up just enough that he could tangle his fingers in Crowley’s hair. Not to push, not to pull, but just to steady himself. “Crowley—Crowley, you—” Aziraphale gasped. The feeling of Crowley’s tongue, his _tongue_, slithering down inside his _prick, _of all things, was unparalleled. He’d never felt anything like it, and the feeling spread out through his hips and his sex and made him feel warm. He was gasping out, bucking his hips uselessly, but Crowley wasn’t bothered from his spot. His tongue pushed down until he couldn’t anymore, and then he pulled back.

When his tongue came loose, Aziraphale shuddered and collapsed back to the bed. He’d felt like he’d come, but there was nothing. Just this pleasant tiredness that spread through his limbs and left him rather limp, as Crowley stopped touching him completely. Aziraphale met his predatory gaze and shivered for it, and he couldn’t look away. Crowley looked ready to _eat_ him, and Aziraphale would find it hard to deny him anything, at this point. He shifted his legs a little further apart and moaned as Crowley’s hands rubbed up his thighs. Just touching. Just shifting and squeezing the extra flesh. Nothing overly sensual, but Aziraphale was achingly hard and dripping, regardless.

“On your knees, love,” Crowley patted his hip. “I’m nowhere _near_ done with you.”

It sounded more a threat than a promise, so Aziraphale did as he was told and rolled onto his front. It was a shaking mess to get up to his elbows and knees, but he did it, with a pillow between his chest and the bed so he had something to hold. He couldn’t see Crowley like this, but he could hear the zip of his trousers and the sigh of relief. The slick, wet noises of Crowley stroking himself. Aziraphale almost had a moment where he thought to ready himself—but surely, Crowley wouldn’t do anything _dangerous._ That wasn’t his style. He liked to go slow. He liked to work Aziraphale up to his breaking point and catch him where he fell. If pressed, Crowley could drag sex on for _hours._

Aziraphale sorely hoped this was one of those times.

Crowley’s hand suddenly came down over his backside in an echoing slap, where Crowley grabbed into the flesh and spread it over. He did the same on Aziraphale’s other cheek, then ran his thumbs up the love space between. Aziraphale’s hole had all but presented itself, there, tight and waiting for Crowley’s touch. Crowley would oblige, like he always did, and pressed his thumb over it. Aziraphale gasped in response, rocking his hips back and whining when Crowley moved away.

“You’re such a slut,” Crowley told him, then reached across for the nightstand where their lubricant was hiding. “I could do absolutely anything to you,” he said, dropping the bottle beside his leg, “and you’d beg for it.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale almost hated the way his cock twitched at the words. _Almost_ hated how Crowley was right.

“Should have you start calling me ‘master’, I think,” Crowley chuckled to himself. “You certainly like to act like I own you. Would you like that?”

Aziraphale didn’t respond, just pressed his hips back in silent begging.

“Say ‘please’, love,” Crowley said. He tugged Aziraphale’s cheeks apart again and spat between them.

“Please,” Aziraphale responded. “Please, Crowley.”

Crowley _did_ please, and he leaned forward to lick up his own saliva. That hadn’t been anything near what Aziraphale expected, so he shouted and nearly fell forward. The pillow kept him up right, but it was silk and rubbing against his chest in all these ways that it did. Aziraphale whimpered and bit into the fabric. Crowley licked again, a solid stripe between Aziraphale’s cheek with a thick tongue, now. A human one, Aziraphale realized, and it made him a bit dazed to think how Crowley changed himself to please Aziraphale best. To do just what he liked and take him apart piece by little piece. It sounded as good as it felt, and it felt marvelous when Crowley’s tongue breached him.

His tongue stayed shallow and still worked against his rim while Crowley’s lips puckered and spread farther around him. Quite literally like a starved man at his first meal, and Aziraphale felt his knees go weak for it. His thighs trembled with every press of Crowley’s tongue, every touch of his nose, every movement of his lips. He would struggle to hold himself up, but every other fiber of his being enjoyed this. His hole positively twitched around Crowley’s tongue and opened right for him. Without miracles, because this was miracle enough—Crowley’s tongue. Sinful, demonic, and oh so wonderful shoved up inside him. His cock dripped onto the sheets beneath him, making quite a mess, but Aziraphale could hardly spare a beat to care. His eyes were closed, and he moaned around the pillow as Crowley’s hands started to knead into his arse, pulling apart his cheeks and digging his claws into the meat.

Aziraphale would come like this, he knew he would. If Crowley kept up long enough, Aziraphale would come undone from his tongue and the pillow’s idle brushes against his nipples. How embarrassing that might be? But Aziraphale didn’t care. He worked himself back on Crowley’s tongue, over his mouth. He needed more; he craved the more of it. Anything he could get, and Crowley gave him everything. His tongue was inhumanly long and nimble, brushing up against every nerve ending inside of him and lighting it on fire. He pressed and prodded and rubbed, and then Crowley had pressed one of his fingers right up into the space between his lips and Aziraphale’s skin. What could Aziraphale do but open wider for him, then? Shifting his knees apart and groaning so prettily as the finger dipped inside, along tongue. They worked in tandem until Aziraphale was shouting his arousal and spilling onto the sheets.

Crowley didn’t stop, though. He licked up inside of him with all the dedication he could muster. Aziraphale groaned and tried to bury his face, but it did nothing. Crowley could still hear him, and when Crowley groaned, himself, Aziraphale fell forward and off his elbows. It was like he was still coming, the feeling of it. How sensitive he was. Like he’d never stopped, even as his cock tried to soften and the spurting had ceased, he still felt that unholy warmth in the pit of his gut. Just the thought that Crowley could keep going, and _would_ keep going, was enough to keep Aziraphale wanton and open for him.

“Crowley, please, I—I need more,” he whined.

Crowley pulled back completely, reaching for the lube. “You aren’t ready for more, angel. You’re ready for what I’ll give you.”

“I want it, please. Whatever you’ll give—”

“You’ll have it, if you’re patient. Can you be patient, love?”

Aziraphale nodded and spread his knees a little wider. Crowley laughed behind him but gave him a reassuring pat on the arse. That wasn’t what patience looked like, but he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. He was going to make sure Aziraphale was wet and gaping before he gave him anything he wanted. There was a lot to fit, this time, and Crowley reached between them to stroke over his two cocks for just the moment. There was a growing pressure inside of him, and _he_ wanted to come too. It would wait, though. He wanted to come inside Aziraphale. Nothing short of what Aziraphale deserved for such pliant behavior.

Crowley was slipping a wet finger in, then, without preamble. He smirked with Aziraphale gasped and shuddered away, but it took less than a thrust for him to be working back against the intrusion. A silent beg for more, a _plea_ for Crowley to give him what he needed. And he needed Crowley, up inside him, with more than just fingers. Now of which there were two, working in and out and spreading lube along his inner walls. Stretching him at just the right moments and pointedly ignoring that little protruding thing.

“Did you think making it easy to find would help you out?” Crowley asked. He leaned over and gave rather fond kisses along Aziraphale’s spine. “It just shows me how much of a slut you are, dove. How needy you are.”

Aziraphale didn’t deny the accusations, just rolled his hips in a pathetic attempt to get Crowley to _touch._

Crowley was careful, though, and stretched without ever brushing a fingertip over Aziraphale’s prostate. It was the perk of being able to control their effort, so to say, that he could choose where it was. He always made it close and easy to find, easy for Crowley to abuse if he wanted. Still, Crowley ignored it in favor of pushing in a third finger. There was no resistance. Aziraphale opened right up for him and gasped, his thighs trembling. Crowley hushed him, gently, with a firm hand over his backside to pull apart his cheeks again, then kissed along his tail bone. Nothing would calm him, not with Crowley three fingers deep. Not with the way that he was opening right up and could feel lube dripping down his thighs. One thing he’d learned over the years was that Crowley liked it _wet._

A moment later, Aziraphale was seeing _stars_ as Crowley dragged his nails, of all things, over his prostate and ruined him all at once. Aziraphale would have collapsed if not for Crowley’s hold on his hips. He was held perfectly in place while Crowley began his assault. He pressed and rolled and kneaded the little spot, ripping moans straight out of Aziraphale’s lungs. He couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t think, his arms had gone limp. This was what he _wanted_, to feel so fucked out that he couldn’t move. Crowley delivered; he always delivered. And until Aziraphale was drooling over the pillow and his throat had gone sore, he didn’t relent. His fingers worked slowly and diligently over Aziraphale’s prostate, and Crowley showered his back with kisses, nips, and bites. He would have pretty constellations on his back, too, for Crowley’s trouble.

Once Aziraphale’s eyes had started to water, Crowley relented. He pulled back his fingers and let Aziraphale fall into the sheets, whimpering with his hands curled up near his mouth where he’d had a hold on the pillow. The mess he’d made became visible after he’d rolled to the side; he’d come again, on Crowley’s fingers, and Crowley leaned over him to marvel. He stroked his clean fingers through Aziraphale’s hair and kissed his temple, down the side of his face until Aziraphale titled his head to press their lips together.

“You’re beautiful,” Crowley told him between kisses. “Perfect. An absolute marvel. I’d be nowhere without you.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale whimpered, but he returned every kiss. Reveled at every stroke of his hair and linger at the back of his neck.

“Do you think you can do more?” Crowley’s voice was a whisper. He didn’t want to break the game they’d created, but he still had to ask. He had to worry—it was what he did. Aziraphale was everything to him, and he’d be rather damned if he ruined this for his own selfish desires.

“Yes,” Aziraphale whispered back. “Whatever you’ve a mind for, I can. I’ll tell you if I can’t.”

They had a safe word. Crowley needed to trust that Aziraphale would use it, so he pressed a heavy kiss to his lips before pulling back and clearing his throat. Back to business, then. He took a moment to compose himself, to look over the mess Aziraphale had made of himself: the cum out on the bed sheets, the sopping wet mess of his arsehole. Crowley was a bit proud, so to say, that he’d done this. That Aziraphale had taken it so well, and still looked ready for more. His prick was still hard, for it, but if that was a miracle was hard to say. Crowley didn’t dwell. Instead, he ran his hands up Aziraphale’s side and down over his chest.

“Look at you,” Crowley said. “What a mess of yourself you’ve made. And my sheets, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale croaked. His eyes were leading down, looking to where Crowley’s _cocks_ were rubbing up against his thigh. Crowley had to be aching for release at this point; he’d perfected the art of holding back, but his cockheads were angry and red, dripping precum and making a mess of his thigh with every press.

“That’s quite a look you have there,” Crowley grinned. “Do you need something, pet?” Crowley knew exactly where he was looking and punctuated each word with another roll of his hips so Aziraphale could watch his cocks peak over the fat of his thighs.

“I—I want,” Aziraphale swallowed. “If you’ll have it, I want to, well…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“You have to ask, love,” Crowley said, pulling away. He rolled his head back as he continued to work his hips. “I could rub off on you right here. Finish myself and leave you the night. Is that what you want?”

“N-no!” Aziraphale cried.

“Then you have to ask,” Crowley hissed, “angel. Ask me. Beg me.”

“Crowley, I want—oh, I want to put my mouth on you. Please, Crowley. Let me lick you, let me suck on you,” and he sucked in a breath.

“Was that so hard?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

Once they’d situated, Crowley was sitting in the nest of pillows, and Aziraphale was kneeling, unsure, between his spread thighs. Crowley was intimidating at the best of times, but he’d decided to really let go today. Just like Aziraphale had asked him. And much like his snake form, there were two cocks there, standing hard and leaking. Aziraphale was _nervous_ for it, but he had asked. And he did want to try, at least. Maybe he would please Crowley well enough to earn something _nice _for himself, so he leaned down and got to work.

He took one cock in hand and licked at it, tentatively and rather reminiscent of a kitten. The taste was one thing, but it was getting over his fear of doing something wrong. That he wouldn’t be good enough for Crowley. That Crowley would hate it and pull him off and leave—and it was all rather unrealistic, so Aziraphale breathed a hot puff of air over the cockheads and listened to Crowley shudder. Crowley had settled back into the pillows, his hands folded over his middle, and that gave Aziraphale some sort of boost that he needed. He swallowed the head of one while he pumped the other in his hand rather slowly, awkwardly, but Crowley’s hips still hitched up and into the heat of his mouth.

“Angel—angel,” Crowley had a hand in his hair. “Teeth.”

Aziraphale responded by curling his lips over his teeth and sinking down a little farther. Crowley’s sigh sounded rather _pleased_, so he kept going. He pushed down until he couldn’t go any farther, and then tried for the last little bit. He’d pulled back immediately, embarrassed that his _gag reflex_ was there, of all things, and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked for any sign of disappointment in Crowley’s face, but Crowley had such a _smile_ that it was hard to believe he’d done anything wrong. Crowley even offered with a gesture that he try again, and how could Aziraphale refuse?

No teeth, no gag reflex, and he sunk back down. He moved slower this time, trying different things to see what Crowley liked. Crowley liked, specifically, when Aziraphale used his tongue along the underside. Which left Aziraphale’s mouth open, and he drooled over the prick in his mouth. Slurped and licked up what he could, but he drooled while he sucked, and made such a mess. Crowley looked _ravished _by the sight, though, especially when Aziraphale switched sides. He treated Crowley’s second cock with the same care and tongue and drool while he pumped the first one in his hand, spreading the mess around. Nothing particular came of it, really, but Hell if Crowley couldn’t come just from watching Aziraphale _try._

Then, Aziraphale was fitting both cocks into his mouth, and Crowley could do nothing but lean his head back. Aziraphale was moaning around him, making little hitching noises while he worked lower. Until he’d taken both cocks into the back of his throat and hummed around them, his eyes screwed up in the pleasure of it—having Crowley’s cocks in his mouth. In his throat. The stretch of his lips, the strain on his jaw. He felt _so_ good, he couldn’t help the little noises. The spit. Until finally, Crowley reached down and pulled him off.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale looked disappointed. “Did I—did I do alright?”

“You did wonderfully, angel,” Crowley said, and pulled him in for a kiss. Aziraphale melted into him, settling in his lap where Crowley’s cocks nestled along his backside, his arms draped over Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley touched him, then, with his hands over his sides and along his back. To keep him as close as possible while they kissed and tangled tongues in the space between their lips. Aziraphale moaned into it, pressing forward and rolling his cock into Crowley’s stomach.

“Your clothes, dear,” Aziraphale gasped. A second later, they were rolling. Aziraphale was planted back first into the bed while Crowley hovered over him, a predatory little grin on his face.

“What about them?”

“Could you _please_ take them off? Completely?”

Crowley could have played a bit longer about it, really, but his cocks were _aching. _It was his turn for release, so he did as he was asked. He shed his shirt and shimmied out of his trousers and pants. Rather unceremonious and unattractive, but Aziraphale had this dazed look in his eyes that said he decidedly felt different about it. Just getting to look at Crowley was a treat and had him nibbling on the end of his nails while Crowley situated between his thighs, again.

After one hard yank, Aziraphale had gasped and landed exactly where Crowley wanted, with their hips pressed up together. He hoisted one of Aziraphale’s legs over his shoulder and wasted no further time. With lube, he slicked himself, and then split Aziraphale right open again on the head of his right cock. And what a feeling it was, Aziraphale’s tight little arse around him, taking him fully like that. Crowley knew he wouldn’t last long, but that was the _perk_ of being a snake, at least on some level. They could do this all night, if Crowley wanted them to. He could use one cock at a time and get them both off on one while the other recovered. That seemed a rather unfair thing to do to Aziraphale, the way he was squirming and whining, but _oh_ the possibilities.

From the looks of it, Aziraphale wouldn’t last that long. He’d have to plan it for another time, if this worked out to Aziraphale’s liking.

For now, he rocked his hips. His second cock nestled itself right up in the junction of Aziraphale’s hip and pelvis and rubbed beautiful while he started slow, tedious. Working just to watch himself sink inside of Aziraphale and pull back out and, to watch how Aziraphale opened for him, how his hole fluttered over every press. It wasn’t enough for Aziraphale, though, and soon he was whining and trying to push himself down farther over Crowley’s cock. And Crowley stopped. He watched helplessly fond as Aziraphale bucked his hips hard, rolling himself down until their hips were flush together, and then he just rolled. Rubbed. Anything to _feel_ that perfect way Crowley rubbed up against his prostate inside, every nerve ending positively on fire. His lips were apart in breathless little moans as if he were nearly spent already.

Like this, Crowley wouldn’t last long. He took a hold of Aziraphale’s hips and started a brutal pace into him. The slap of skin resounded through the room and mixed in symphony with Aziraphale’s whines, his moans, and Crowley’s grunts of effort. How he groaned. Aziraphale was clenching around him, trying to keep him deep and inside, but this wasn’t _about _Aziraphale. Not anymore. He’d had his turn, and Crowley needed it bad. Already, his balls were tightening up, and he could feel heat spreading through his gut.

He leaned down, nearly bending Aziraphale in half with how his leg was, so he could suck and bite along his neck and chest. Aziraphale went wild for it, his jaw gaping and his breaths empty. He held into Crowley’s hair like it was all he was good for, and Crowley was coming a second later with Aziraphale’s nails digging into his scalp. Then, he pulled back and offered Aziraphale not a second of reprieve. The first cock came out, and Crowley just pushed the second one into its place.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, but he took it.

Every rough second of pounding, Aziraphale took, and he cried for it. Cried for more, even, as Crowley squeezed his tits and played over his nipples, too. His cock was bouncing helplessly between them, hard and straining for another climax—but Aziraphale hadn’t the strength left to touch it. He was going to come again; that much, he could feel. Just by Crowley’s cock alone, he was going to come. Every thrust was pointed and precise, brushing over his prostate and everything that came after. And that just spread through him all the way to the bites on his neck where Crowley threatened to break skin with his teeth-turned-fangs.

“Crowley, Crowley,” Aziraphale crooned, trying to slot their mouths back together. Crowley obliged, capturing a searing kiss before pulling back to ground himself on the sheets. His face was scrunched up, his eyes unfocused and closing tightly. He was close, so close, and Aziraphale tried to egg him along by working his hips again to meet every thrust. It made it more—_more_ intense, if that were possible. And he fell open again, moaning Crowley’s name not inches from his ear.

“Just—just like that, dear,” Aziraphale gasped. “Oh, please, please, I’m going to—_Crowley_,” he gasped and shuddered as another climax overtook him. He clenched over Crowley’s cock and felt him come, once more, inside. Oh, the mess that he could feel spreading up through him, and ever warm as it was. He tingled with desire, still, for how little he could move, and he eyed Crowley. Hoping that he would understand.

“I’m not done yet, angel,” Crowley said, though he hadn’t yet _met_ Aziraphale’s gaze. When he did, he smirked. “Seems you’re not done either. What a little slut you are,” he said, dragging his hands through Aziraphale’s curls and pulling back his head to get at the underside of his jaw.

_That_ was new, and Aziraphale hadn’t realized it was sensitive until Crowley was nipping at extra skin between his teeth and sending another shot of arousal right down Aziraphale’s spine. How unfair it was that Crowley could just _do_ things like that and get such a response. Aziraphale spasmed around him, again, and could feel Crowley’s cock begin to harden inside of him, still. Again. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what Aziraphale wanted, not when he could feel Crowley’s second cock incessantly hard against the curve of his arse.

“Crowley—” Aziraphale gasped, rutting down against him. “Crowley, please.”

“Please what? You have to be specific.”

“Oh, Heavens, Crowley just—” Aziraphale keened at him. “I want both of them, please. Please, I need you, dear.”

Crowley chuckled right up against his neck and kissed the same spot. He didn’t even dare to respond, just reached his hand down between them to take himself in hand and guide the first cock back inside that warm and welcoming heat. Now it was wet, and it squelched when Crowley pressed inside. There was no resistance. Aziraphale was too fucked out for there to be, and he opened right up for the second cock. Aziraphale didn’t release his breath until Crowley had pushed inside fully, and then they were both panting together, inches away without energy enough to kiss like they could have. Aziraphale brushed his hands along the sides of Crowley’s face and nodded, subtly—he was ready. Ready, and he _wanted_ this. More than anything.

When Crowley straightened up, it was to shift Aziraphale’s leg and turn him on his side. Then, he took a handful of Aziraphale’s arse to keep him steady when he began to rock. This time, his thrusts were slow and deep. He’d pulled back nearly all the way before slamming home, and the sound it made was impeccable. It was wet and glorious; the sound and proof of what Crowley had left inside of him. He would do it again, too. He would make sure Aziraphale was full and content. That he’d been so fucked he wouldn’t be able to move when they were done.

The stretch was everything, then. All Aziraphale could do was lay there and grasp his fists in the sheets while Crowley worked in and out, in and out with such _accuracy_ it was almost painful. He was overly sensitive now, pushing into his limits, but he whined and moaned for more. More, more, more, and Crowley obliged with fast, hard thrusts that slapped their skin together and shook the bed with the force. Each one was less coordinated, less on the mark, but it didn’t matter. Aziraphale was coming and coming again, dry and untouched while Crowley finally spilled inside of him. _Both_ cocks, this time, filling him right up while Crowley’s hips twitched and jerked. His head was thrown back beautifully while he groaned.

It was like he just kept coming, and coming, and then finally pulled back with a groan. His entire body shuddered before he collapsed onto the bed behind Aziraphale. A stark silence fell over them, all of the sudden. Crowley was working on fixing everything that had happened—the fangs, the scales, the eyes. He’d even stopped breathing in his haste to fix it, and in contrast, Aziraphale was just _tired. _Not a single thread on the sheets went moved for the longest of moments, until Crowley felt _human_ enough to sit up and run his fingers through his hair,

“Let me get something to clean you up,” Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale hummed in response, weakly. Once he’d heard Crowley toe off to the bathroom, he shifted. Heavens, he felt so _full_ and open, still. Quite like Crowley was still nestled up inside him, which wasn’t particularly normal. Almost as if there was some resistance keeping him open, as he was. Curiosity got the better of him, and he ventured a hand down behind himself to press at his hole, and. He was indeed _very_ open, still. With something wedged tight up inside him with a strange and almost waxy feeling to it.

“Uh—Crowley?” Aziraphale called.

“I’m right here, I’m right here,” Crowley said, stepping back out of the bathroom. “I didn’t go far.”

“No, I realize that, I simply. Well—what _is_ this?” It wasn’t as though Aziraphale could _see_ behind himself. He wouldn’t have been upset if Crowley had plugged him for the night, but they hadn’t talked about it, and this certainly didn’t feel like any plug they’d ever used.

“What is _what_, exactly? If you need me to explain what your arse is, we have a different problem.”

“_Crowley_,” Aziraphale snapped, and heard Crowley grumble as he stepped around the bed. And stopped. Crowley sucked in a tight breath. Crowley pushed it out through his nose.

“I am _so _sorry,” he said, immediately. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—” and he was clambering onto the bed. Aziraphale gasped when he felt Crowley’s fingers along the cleft of his ass, over the _thing_ inside him. “Aziraphale, I didn’t—”

“What _is_ it, my dear?” Aziraphale asked again.

“It’s, uh. A secretion, I guess. Waxy thing, uh,” Crowley sniffed.

“That’s quite an attractive thing to tell me.”

“Well—it’s not _meant_ to be attractive, it’s just. It’s a thing my body does, or. Well. Doesn’t, but I guess the snake part does. Human body isn’t actually my _natural_ state, if you will.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said.

“I’m _sorry. _It’s just. I don’t know what happened. And why are you so put off about it, anyway?”

“Well, my apologies, dear. It’s not as though I was expecting some _waxy secretion_ to be left up my bum when you were finished,” a rather snide remark sent over his shoulder.

“No different than those plugs you like so much. Just, well. Biological, I guess.”

“If you’re trying to tell me you’ve left a biological _butt plug_ up my arse—”

“Well! When you put it that way,” Crowley sighed. He was inspecting the area for any _damage,_ so to speak. “I really am sorry, angel. I didn’t realize this would happen.”

“Is it supposed to?”

Crowley mulled that question over for a moment while he soothed his thumb over Aziraphale’s hole. There were ways he could say this that made it sound alright, ways that sounded stupid, and ways that were just plain correct. No better time to educate Aziraphale about snakes would present itself in the near future, so he might as well do it right.

“Supposed to, yeah. It’s a mating plug, I guess. Keeps you safe from other males.”

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You know I worry about that on the day-to-day.”

“It was an _accident_. Don’t get tetchy. It’s got other purposes, too. Keeps the sperm in, I guess. Helps with pregnancy.”

“Crowley, you came inside _my arse_—”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I said I was sorry.”

There was a heavy bout of silence while Aziraphale shifted again, trying to get comfortable. He wasn’t mad about it, per say. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he seemed rather turned on by the idea. He had asked Crowley to _let go_, and in doing so, so many things about his true form had slithered their way out. This wasn’t so much an accident as it was just what he was meant to do with, well, in snake terms, rather—his mate. Protect them, keep them to himself in a sort of way. Really, it was quite possessive of him, which left Aziraphale feeling a bit warm in the pelvis again. His prick was quite spent, however, so Aziraphale settled for rolling to where he could see Crowley. Crowley looked a bit put out, which hadn’t exactly improved the mood; Aziraphale even felt bad for it.

“Let me get rid of this, and then we can—”

“Now,” Aziraphale halted his hand, “I didn’t say that.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You were just complaining—”

“No, I was confused. There is a difference, dear. I think I rather like it. The idea of it, I mean. That you really felt I needed protection from others,” and Aziraphale was smiling. He was telling the truth. Angels _could_ lie, but like the rest of them, Aziraphale wasn’t particularly good at it.

“Oh,” Crowley said, wide-eyed and dumb.

“Does it, well. Go away on its own?”

“Should,” Crowley nodded. “About a day or two, I think.”

Aziraphale hummed rather happily, then. Crowley did as he promised and cleaned them both up, though he was rather tired for it now. When it was all said and done, he curled up in the bed with Aziraphale on his chest, hands in his hair, and sighed against him. This hadn’t quite ended how he expected, but he would be lying if he wasn’t completely and utterly satisfied with it. And for the sudden hiccup, Aziraphale was still red faced and smiling, against his neck and humming happily.

“Are you uncomfortable at all?” Crowley asked.

“Not a tick,” Aziraphale replied, then kissed Crowley’s neck for good measure.

“You did wonderfully tonight, by the way. I was afraid there for a minute you’d tap out on me,” Crowley chuckled to himself.

“Me? Oh, never. What did I tell you? I’m not some fragile little human, dear.”

Crowley did certainly believe that now, though it didn’t mean they should make a _habit_ out of this. Unless, of course, Aziraphale found that he rather liked it and all the consequences that came with it. Of course, Crowley would always be happy to oblige him in whatever whims he had. Even if that meant leaving him plugged and full for _days_, because Heaven knew there was no end to the amount of mating plugs he could create. Hell probably knew too, but really neither of them were paying much attention anymore. Better things to care about than Crowley’s habits, anyway. Or Aziraphale’s.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 I will not be held responsible for my actions. 𓆏  
  
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